


realised I need you here (as desperate as that sounds)

by rainbow_porcupine_ninja



Series: lying about me and you [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Mutual Pining, Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining Merlin (Merlin), gwaine helps, hear that lads? a happy ending!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23511982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbow_porcupine_ninja/pseuds/rainbow_porcupine_ninja
Summary: Arthur’s breaking with every blank stare and ‘yes, sire’ that Merlin dishes out.Little does he know that Merlin’s breaking too.Starring fate as that one rotting tree, pining as Merlin and Arthur and Gwaine as himself.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: lying about me and you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1498889
Comments: 35
Kudos: 481





	realised I need you here (as desperate as that sounds)

**Author's Note:**

> Yooo here I am, back on my angsty bullshit, but this time they get happy at the end! can I hear a wahoo ladies and gentlemen?
> 
> Title from the song Woke the Fuck Up by Jon Bellion. Thanks dude. 
> 
> Hope everyone is doing well, staying safe and bathing in hand sanitiser! Sending love and merthur cuddles your way.

Nothing’s changed, Arthur realises, in a panic, one bright morning after training. Merlin still hasn’t said anything to him in the last few months besides ‘yes, sire’ and ‘right away, sire’ and Arthur’s getting sick of it. 

‘Merlin would know about petticoats, isn’t that right, Merlin?’ Arthur teases desperately as the knights start to head back into the weapons chamber. 

And it is desperate; he normally doesn’t say stuff like this. He normally doesn’t throw insults at Merlin just to gain a response; he normally doesn’t have to. 

Leon and Gwaine snicker. Lancelot rubs at Merlin’s hair affectionately. 

Merlin doesn’t even acknowledge him. 

‘Please,’ Arthur whimpers, ever so quietly under his breath so no one can hear him. Even now he can’t help himself; he can’t help but plead.

Yet Merlin looks up, quickly, just once, and Arthur flushes down to his boots, staring at the floor, praying that Merlin didn’t actually hear him.

His manservant walks away and Arthur feels like dying.

Merlin takes a seat opposite Gwaine in the rowdy tavern after ordering his beer. ‘Well?’ he announces drily. ‘You wanted to see me?’

Gwaine raises an eyebrow. “Look, mate, I’m just going to say what I need to say here.’

‘You’re scaring me, Gwaine.’

He gives Merlin one of his trademark looks and sits back in the bench. ‘You’re in love with Arthur.’

Merlin’s quiet for a minute or so. The pint that’s arrived for him shakes in his hand. He swallows a hefty portion of it in large gulps. “And?”

“He’s in love with you.” 

Merlin slams down the tankard and puts his head in his hands for a moment, then takes a deep breath and sits back up in his seat. “What’s the point you’re trying to make here, Gwaine?”

He makes a strange gesture with his hands that Merlin can’t interpret. “You’re not doing anything about it, mate. That princess doesn’t fall for anyone, so this must mean something, right? What’s holding you back?”

“It’s not a big deal, Gwaine,” Merlin hisses. “It doesn’t mean anything, it can never mean anything, because he’s the fucking king. It will ruin his life, I will ruin his life, and I can’t let that happen—“

His voice cracks, and Gwaine winces. “Mate. You’re getting too worked up about this. You like Arthur, Arthur likes you.”

He leans over the table and grabs both Merlin’s hands, holding them, while Merlin is trying his best not to break into pieces right here and now. 

“There! It’s as simple as that.” Gwaine murmurs. “The citadel isn’t going to burn if you two fuck. Gwen won’t mind, she’s already fucking Lancelot and everyone knows it, and you’re already leading the kingdom behind the scenes basically…”

“Stop saying ’fucking’ so loud, Gwaine,” Merlin sighs, glancing around, but the tavern’s crowded and noisy. “There’s something you need to know, something that you’re not getting.”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow. “You’re not secretly Morgana, are you?”

“I have magic, Gwaine,” Merlin mouths, heart clashing in his chest as it always does when admitting such things, and prays that he doesn’t have to repeat it. 

“Oh, I was wondering when you were going to let me know about that,” Gwaine smirks. 

Merlin does nothing but gape.

“Oh, yeah, you were really obvious about it that one time in Essetir. Don’t worry about it, haven’t told anyone,” Gwaine drawls, taking a large gulp of the dregs of his beer, draining the glass. “What’s it got to do with anything? He won’t mind.”

“He won’t mind?” Merlin fumes. “Oh, yeah, the King of the great land of Camelot, a place where magic is strictly prohibited everywhere, won’t really care that the person he’s in love with was born with it. But more to the point, who else knows?”

Gwaine smiles, tilting his head back. “I heard Lance and Percy talking about it once. But no one else. Probably. But you’re skirting around the problem, mate. Remember King Olaf’s uncle? He was as gay as a peacock, even had a consort. And look at the places he conquered! The legacy he left behind! No one gave a rat’s arse!”

“Have you ever craved someone so much that you literally ache?” Merlin whispers suddenly. “It’s so fucking painful. I can’t stand it.”

Gwaine softens for a second.

Merlin takes a deep breath in and out. And starts again, trying to convince himself now. “You don’t understand, Gwaine; I can’t ever tell Arthur, and if we ever… become more than this, I don’t want to hide anything from him. He’ll never talk to me again if I tell him about my magic, he might even banish me, and I need to stay by his side. We’re two sides of the same coin, and if that means I can’t ever tell him or be with him the way I want, so be it.”

Gwaine looks at him for a moment, really looks, and for a moment Merlin thinks he can see past the walls he’s put up, the reasons he’s built around himself. “Okay, Merls. I’m not going to force you into it. I just… think you’re not giving him enough credit.” 

And with that Gwaine stands up and pushes his way out of the tavern.

“You wanted to see me, sire?” Merlin asks, standing at Arthur’s side at the window. 

Arthur glances at him, briefly. “We’re going on a two-day hunt. Just the two of us, Guinevere can manage without me. I need to get out.”

Merlin nods, and for a moment that sounds perfect. Just the two of them alone in the woods, enjoying each other’s company… but then he remembers that he has to push Arthur away. For their own sakes. Arthur doesn’t deserve him. Keep pushing on, Merlin. 

“We’re riding out at daybreak tomorrow,” Arthur says curtly, and that’s the end of the matter.

It’s certainly daybreak when they set off; the night is still clinging on with its final breaths and the autumnal cold does the same. Merlin wraps his threadbare cloak around him and shivers. 

Arthur glances back at him, perhaps hearing the sound. His dappled horse slows to a halt, Merlin’s doing the same, and he swiftly unclasps his Pendragon-red cloak, handing it to Merlin. 

Merlin’s about to protest when he sees the warning look in Arthur’s eyes. “Thanks, Arthur,” Merlin whispers, smiling, and taking the cloak from Arthur’s gloved hand, and he doesn’t even bother to hide the affection in his eyes. Those little things that Arthur does sets his heart alight, and he doesn’t feel like tamping it down this morning. His king doesn’t seem to mind the cold, humming to himself, and flowers start to grow in Merlin’s chest.

He wraps the red warmth of the material tighter around him. It smells like Arthur.

They haven’t gone far when they encounter a problem. Merlin should have seen this coming, really, it was all too perfect— he can never enjoy himself, can he? Always a problem, always Arthur needing to be saved. A rotting tree falls right when Arthur’s riding right under it, and 

there’s nothing 

Merlin

can think of doing

but 

push—

with his mind, and the tree

soars,

crashing into another metres up ahead…

Arthur turns to him, eyes wide.

Merlin 

shuts 

his eyes 

ever so tight, 

and 

everything

goes 

dark.

“Merlin, it’s okay, Merlin…” Arthur breathes, hauling his seemingly-unconscious manservant into a comfortable position, his back against a tree. The horses are tied up already, the firewood collected, yet Merlin still hasn’t woken. 

That’s okay. Merlin’s still breathing and Arthur can wait. 

He goes about building a fire, and it’s not even noon yet, but he doesn’t even feel like hunting anymore. His cloak is still wrapped around the sleeping Merlin, but Arthur doesn’t feel the cold. He doesn’t feel much of anything at the moment.

The fire begins to scale higher into the air, so Arthur sits back next to Merlin against the tree and closes his eyes, feeling the bitterness of the wind against his cheeks.

He’s not sure what to think about Merlin’s magic, yet he knows he isn’t furious. Which surprises him, because magic is the very thing that he was brought up to hate, but he could never hate the half that makes him whole again. 

Arthur almost snorts while thinking that gushy romantic nonsense, but finds that it doesn’t bother him.

He breathes in and out, waiting.

Arthur’s not sure how many minutes, or hours pass, but eventually Merlin stirs. Arthur’s eyes blink open and he sits up, grasping Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin’s first awake blinks are ones of fear. He rears back from Arthur’s touch, then curls into a ball. 

“Don’t hate me, please, Arthur,” he sobs. “I can’t control it, I never meant to…” 

The next few words are indecipherable, and Arthur realises with a jolt that Merlin’s terrified. Arthur thought he would be apologetic, but feeling justified, but one look at his hunched figure makes Arthur understand the fear. This is Camelot, with Arthur at the peak, and magic’s been banned for a while. Uther had been banishing and executing users left and right. 

“Merlin,” he says quickly. “Look at me, please.”

Merlin looks up, tears streaking down his face, and he skids back a little more. “I can explain, sire, please—”

“Hey,” Arthur interjects desperately. “It’s okay, you don’t owe me anything. Please, don’t be frightened of me, I would never do anything to you because of this. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Merlin presses his lips together in a hopeless attempt to keep the sobs from coming out. “Arthur, I can’t believe…”

Arthur’s never really been one with words. He’s always expressed his feelings with touch, friendly punches and pats on the back and gruff hugs, and at the moment he has no idea what to say, so he scoots closer to Merlin and brings their foreheads close together.

The magic of it is that Merlin doesn’t pull back.

“I was born with it,” Merlin whispers after the tears have run dry. “It’s not something I have learned or anything, I would never…” he trails off. 

Arthur swallows. “Tell me everything about you, Merlin. You can go on for hours, I don’t mind. Tell me your story.”

So Merlin tries. 

The endeavour lasts about half an hour, filled with hiccups and bouts of tears, but Arthur gets the gist of it. They’re two sides of the same coin, as the druids say, and Merlin’s been saving his arse ever since he arrived in Camelot. Merlin can tell him the rest later.

“I don’t know how to make you see, Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, “but I’m… filled with admiration, really. I knew there was something about you, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I don’t deserve you here in my world, do I? It’s taken too long for me to realise that.”

“Arthur,” Merlin begs. “You’ve got to understand- I did this all for you. It was always a choice, every step, every action, and I would do it blindfolded, without a leg, a hundred times over.”

Arthur feels the sting of tears in his eyes. “I wish I could— I just— I don’t know how to form the words…”

Merlin kisses the inside of Arthur’s wrist, gently and carefully, and Arthur feels like he could break. 

“Merlin,” he mumbles, and Merlin looks up, grinning.

“You don’t hate me,” Merlin breathes.

“Your smile is radiant,” Arthur replies coyly, because it is, and he would die a thousand times just to see it more often. 

Neither of them are sure who starts it, but they’re staring at each other’s lips now, and Arthur can’t really help himself, because Merlin’s right there and he’s looking at him like he’s the goddamn sun and they crash into one another, spinning the stars out of alignment.

Merlin’s hands come up to rest on Arthur’s chest and Arthur doesn’t know what to do with his, but he kisses back just as fervently, hardly believing it.

Then stops, pushing himself back. “I’m sorry, are you sure you…”

Arthur doesn’t get the chance to finish. Merlin melts into him, clambering onto Arthur’s lap, so Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist. The kiss turns gentle with sweet, light touches, yet Arthur feels as if he is burning, because Merlin is so close, and he’s touching him and kissing him and it’s more than Arthur ever could have wanted, and—

“Stop thinking, clotpole,” Merlin groans, pulling back, but smiling nevertheless. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Arthur starts crying.

“Hey,” Merlin starts, taken aback. “Did I do something wrong?”

Arthur wipes away a tear, embarrassed. “No, it’s just— I missed this,” he mutters. “You, talking to me like this.”

Merlin screws his eyes shut for a moment. “Look, I didn’t want to hurt you, Arthur. I never wanted to, but I did, didn’t I?” 

He cups Arthur’s wet face in his hands, looking like he’s about to cry again. “You’re the king, and an excellent fucking one. You’re a god, Arthur, and I want to make you happy, but something inside me screams that I’m not worthy of you, every day. I pushed myself away because I knew you needed more than me, than a stupid servant.”

Arthur fumbles for Merlin’s hand, pressing theirs together. “Merlin, you’re… everything to me.” 

Merlin smiles broadly, and Arthur thinks that maybe this is enough. 

Yet.

“Show me some magic, maybe?” he whispers. 

A moment passes, then a dragon appears, golden and magnificent, wings soaring through the air. Arthur doesn’t miss the flash of gold in Merlin’s eyes, the outstretched hand and the muttered spell, and he thinks he’s fallen even deeper in love.

He voices as much when the dragon fades from the wind, and receives a peck on the jaw. “I can’t believe you, beautiful creature,” Merlin laughs, causing Arthur to turn a vibrant shade. 

Merlin continues to kiss Arthur’s neck and face, causing more shades of scarlet. “I never knew you could blush, sire,” he chuckles. 

“That’s because you never kissed me like that, Merlin.” 

“It’s adorable, you know. I love it.”

Arthur buries his face in Merlin’s neck, at first to hide his joyful embarrassment, but then he starts nuzzling and kissing the pale expanse of skin there.

Merlin lets out a yelp and brings Arthur’s face back up to his. “If you continue at that rate, your majesty, I’m going to have to do wicked, wicked things to you.”

“Oh yeah?” Arthur grins. “What kind of wicked things?”

Merlin’s eyebrows rise up. “The kinds that I would like to wait for until we get back to the palace. I’m not going to be having sex with the king of Camelot on the forest floor like a peasant.”

“That already sounds like something a future consort would say,” Arthur teases, then immediately regrets it. Too soon. Too soon. Too soon.

Then Merlin crashes into him, snogging him senseless. “Don’t say things like that,” he demands when he’s finished and Arthur’s hair is a right mess. “Or I won’t last till Camelot.”

“Let’s get going then,” Arthur laughs, moving to stand up.

Then sits down again. “One more thing,” he says. “I’m not really good at these kinds of things, but…you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. Just know that I could spend hours with you, or just seconds, and I would still feel lucky, Merlin. Please stay, just for a while. I don’t care about the magic. I think I want you in my life forever.”

Merlin doesn’t speak for a while, their hands intertwined, but then he speaks. “One day I will find the right words to describe how I’m feeling, Arthur, but for the moment, you’re my everything.” 

Then; “Come on clotpole. Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos and comments to let me know that you enjoyed it and I’ll literally sell my soul to you!!
> 
> also, anything else you want to see from this universe? i’m having trouble thinking of ideas. 
> 
> come cry with me @arthurlervesmerlin on tumblr!!


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